


High thread count

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Series: The Bedsheet Chronicles [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Oblivious Sherlock, Poor Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: This is the second possible way that the story in part one may end. You need to reads that first for this to make sense! Gifted to KittyGetsLoose for her detailed comment which inspired this second possible sequel !!





	High thread count

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyGetsLoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyGetsLoose/gifts).



Sherlock timed his return at 1 am. When John would be sleepy enough for his defences to be down but not so late that he wouldn’t bother to have any discussion. He knew John wouldn’t have gone up to his room to sleep.

.

.

Sherlock had spent a good three hours reading books in Mycroft’s home library, after having had a good but quick dinner at one of the tedious places frequented by the British Government officials.

He noticed that Mycroft had been in an odd mood that evening but he ascribed it to some boring war mongering his older brother was so fond of.

“So which war are you fighting Mycroft?”

“I beg your pardon?” Mycroft asked him, calm as ever, with only a slight narrowing of the eyes and enquiring tilt of the head indicating that this question was unexpected.

Sherlock looked at him and counted off on his fingers, “You have been distracted through dinner. You barely noticed the wine we drank. You interrogated me on the latest case I solved and didn’t notice when I told you two glaring mistakes. You always interrogate me and make me talk when you want to think of something else while you go on responding mechanically. I know that. You mentioned dinner with Mummy twice although I already agreed to it. So. What is wrong?”

“Oh nothing to worry your head about Brother Mine. Life is complicated and we don’t always get what we want.”

Sherlock just looked at him in exasperation.

He was about to ask something else when Mycroft said “Please do go ahead and read the books you have picked out. Greek plays and Oscar Wilde is a good combination to keep you going till it is time to get back.” He sighed. “I suppose it would be too much to ask you to put them back when done. At least refrain from stealing them. “And with an aggrieved expression he left the living room.

Sherlock looked at his retreating back once again in grudging admiration at his brother’s infinite capacity for deflection and non-answers. _Well, that is why he was the British Government._

He slipped out past midnight, not bothering to find Mycroft or let him know.

Mycroft was in his bedroom but awake and watching the front door security feed. He saw when Sherlock left and then settled down to try and sleep. It was unlikely he would be able to, imagining what would be happening in Baker Street. But he had a very important Cabinet meeting to be at fairly early and he decided to do some deep breathing exercises to help him fall asleep.

.

.

Sherlock slipped into 221B quietly and his eyes took in the sleeping form of John Watson. He seemed to have fallen asleep while watching the telly which was still on. Sherlock picked up the remote and switched it off.

Something in all this must have disturbed John’s sleep because the next instant he was awake, in that sudden completely wakeful way he had—a remnant from surgical residency training as well as the years in the Army.

When he saw Sherlock some of the panic in his eyes died down. He rubbed his face.

“What time is it?”

“Barely 1 am.” Sherlock replied as he removed his shoes and peeled off his coat, gloves, and scarf.

John seemed to have recalled just then the conditions under which Sherlock had left and immediately he sat up straight. He looked at Sherlock as though he wanted to ask him something.

He opened his mouth and shut it. Twice.

“That is quite an impression of a goldfish.” Sherlock drawled. “Mycroft would be rather impressed.”

The name was all John needed to trigger him into talking. “Sherlock you and Mycroft….”

“Went out for dinner. He asked me tedious questions, we discussed some utterly boring things and now I am back.” Sherlock said, in an off- hand manner.

John would almost have believed that the entire evening had been an evil dream if it wasn’t for the fact that Sherlock just confirmed that he HAD gone for dinner with Mycroft

“What you said earlier…” John started to say.

“About what?” Sherlock asked.

 _The git_ , John thought. _He can probably recall every conversation we have had with dates and time and this he asks me?_

“About….”he wanted to ask him. _About sex. About wanting it. About enjoying it. About having a partner._ But he hesitated. _What if he had mis- read everything? Who knew with Sherlock and his mind games._

He himself was starkly aware now that he may shout from the rooftops about being Not Gay but he was definitely attracted to his flat mate. Had bonded emotionally almost from the very first day they met. And it was obvious now that he did find him physically and sexually attractive.

 _But Sherlock and Mycroft?!_ Honestly. He didn’t know what to think. They did seem to be an ideal match. Brothers yes. Incest yes. Illegal yes. _But since when do the Holmes brothers follow any rules meant for ordinary people?_

He gave a bitter laugh. _What a day!!_ To find out and accept that you are sexually attracted to your flatmate at the exact same time as you find out that he is in a non-brotherly relationship with the Most Dangerous Man in Britain.

_Great timing Watson!!_

 

While all this was going on in his mind, Sherlock was watching his face, fascinated at the various emotions flitting across it. He was reading them as clearly as if John was projecting them on a screen in capital letters.

 _Hmm._ _Looks like John wasn’t about to broach the topic._ So of course Sherlock had to plunge into it. Where angels fear to tread and all that.

“Did you mean about a sexual partner?” He asked John, thereby derailing his remaining fragments of thoughts quite completely.

John actually blushed and cursed himself and cleared his throat. “Umm, yes. Maybe.”

Suddenly Sherlock was sitting far closer to him than he had been a second ago. _Like one of those boys from the vampire movies_ he thought to himself _. Honestly._

 _And what the hell?!_ He was holding his hand and talking.

“The feel of the skin” Sherlock said and he rubbed his thumb over John’s palm.

“The smell.” He said and he actually bloody well sniffed at him.

John wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry or punch Sherlock. _What the fuck was going on here??_

He had this sudden feeling that Mycroft was watching them and laughing and this had all been a ridiculous joke they were playing on him.

He tried to pull his hand away but Sherlock’s grip was unexpectedly strong.

“The voice.” Sherlock continued, his voice softer and more seductive now. “It is all important John. The mind, the thinking, the understanding. There has to be genuine intellectual compatibility John………I can’t go around seeking sex from just anyone. “

By this time he was looking deep into John’s eyes and holding both hands and John felt like he was hypnotized.

Every nerve fibre was screaming _kiss him!! hold him!! NOW!!_

 And whatever brain function remained was screaming at him to _Get up!! and run away !!!and save yourself!!!._

 _What if Sherlock was doing this to make Mycroft jealous??!_ And if John did anything he would find himself shred to tiny pieces and probably scattered across Afghanistan.

“Sherlock!” John said, his voice sounding odd and strangled. “What are you doing?”

Sherlock let go of his hands and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I am trying to find a sexual partner John. But I may have over- estimated his intellectual compatibility.” And then he looked at John sideways and winked.

 _The bloody man just winked at me_ thought John and all he could ask in response was “What about Mycroft?”

 

“Mycroft?” Sherlock asked in a puzzled tone.” What about him? Do you fancy him?” His eyes suddenly grew wide.

“No you _idiot_.” John said, feeling like he was trapped in a Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. “I don’t. But you and him….”

“What about us? You are making no sense John!” Sherlock said in exasperation.

“I thought, earlier…you and Mycroft. You seemed very ….close” was all that John could get himself to say.

_Had he mis- interpreted everything??_

_Surely not._

_The cracking sexual tension in the room that time….no, there was no way he could have mistaken that….or had he?_

 

Sherlock suddenly came close to him again and said, “Can I tell you a secret John?”

John nodded yes, wondering if this secret was that the two of them were …..

“Mycroft insists we behave as though we hate each other so as to reduce my security risk.” He shrugged. “There was a time I did hate him. I did drugs as a rebellion. I hated his control. I hated that he was so perfect at everything. So much cleverer, always in charge. But now I don’t. Well…not much. And he doesn’t hate me either. Well….not much. I am sure he would prefer not to have a brother like me but …that is all there is to it.”

John was still absorbing this information when Sherlock lost his patience.

“Come on John. Are you going to come into the bedroom or do you want me to do the rest of the seduction on the sofa? I have a lovely new bedsheet I have been wanting to try.”

And he winked at him and walked off, unbuttoning his shirt, not bothering to turn back to see if John was following.

He smirked when he heard John almost scramble to his feet and come into his room just behind him and push him against the door.

“Sherlock …” is all John managed to say before Sherlock bent down to kiss him and all arguments, suppositions, doubts were gone.

.

.

When John finally went to sleep on the bed later, he did have a faint realization that _yes it was indeed a lovely bedsheet with a very high thread count._

Sherlock turned on one side and with the light from the phone making his face glow a weird blue colour, he typed out a message quickly.

_ {It worked. You should consider an acting career. This was way more convincing than your Lady Bracknell.} _

Mycroft, still awake, heard his phone buzz with an incoming message and looked at it.

He saw the message and closed his eyes in despair.

_Oh Brother Mine. You see but you do not observe. It wasn’t acting at all._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to do this to Mycroft :(


End file.
